Grief
by Oh Mina Obscener
Summary: Shannon is overwhelmed with grief over the loss of Boone. Hope you read & enjoy,and hey,take a few second to review if you do-it makes my day!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Characters and "Lost" are JJ Abram's and ABC's. I do not claim ownership over anything but the story itself.

** Grief**

"Shannon?" Rings in my ears. Aside from the high-pitched buzzing, it's the only think I've heard in hours. I look up, but find the man in my line of vision obscured by tears I hadn't recalled shedding. I hastily wipe them, blinking several times.

" I brought you a drink. Its hot out…" Jack said to me softly, barely above a whisper. His voice cracked and he coughed a bit. I think he was deciding weather or not to leave me alone, or try not to seem like a jerk and try to console me. He stood there for a minute, towering above my hunched form.

"Are… you alright?" He finally asks. His tone of voice tells me he knows the answer and doesn't expect me to tell him yes, but he feels he needs to ask. I realize that I haven't moved since I threw myself down in this very spot, hours ago now. No one had dared approach me. For this I was thankful. I didn't want anyone on the earth to see me muffling enraged, agonized sobs into my hands or crying at the sky, mouthing incoherent curses to God himself for taking Boone.

I just look at him. My usual expression of "are you kidding?" or "yes, I'm fine and I don't need you asking" failed me. Anything refused to register on my face. After a moment of silence looking into Jack's eyes, reaching out to me , acknowledging my pain with his own , I felt the muscles in my face contort a little. My mouth tightened and turned downwards and an involuntary noise grew in my throat. I turned my head away. I dreaded the feel of his hand on mine or the sympathetic noise most people would undoubtedly dish out. But when I opened my eyes, he was gone. That's when I realized Jack felt some of my pain too. At least he understood it. He knew enough that it was not yet time to try and make me feel better. I knew nothing ever could.

All I can think of is Boone. The good times, the bad times, and all the times he came to my rescue. All the times he showed up, fists clenched, prepared to save the damsel in distress from whatever sticky situation I had entangled myself in. More often than not with a guy. I always could count on him to swoop down and pick me out of the mess I had made. Now I thought of his lifeless body, of the fact that I would never see his chiseled face or sharp, steel gray eyes focus on me again twisted me inside.

I felt like screaming. Screaming in rage, in anguish, just plain screaming for all I was worth. I considered laying in the hot sand, pounding my hands and feet on the ground like a child who didn't get her way. I felt like running and running until my heart stopped or I just flung myself into the ocean, where the tides would carry me Away. Or just pull me under, where I could sleep in the deep darkness and never have to think about Boone again, like I still would if I was at Away. I realize that by doing what I want I would hurt myself. I either needed to shut down, or explode. I tried very hard to shut myself off._ There we go. Good._ I told myself. _Don't think about it!_ My mind would whisper when a memory of him came to me. I shut my eyes and willed my stomach muscles to stop heaving. My adrenaline to stop spurting in panic. I stopped moving my hands, feet, fingers…, lowering myself to lay flat on my stomach, my head propped up by my folded arms so I could breathe the shaded area. I willed myself to stupor, to a haze. To a thoughtless abyss that was all my own.

The next thing I remember is waking up with a sunburn and the feeling of dried tears on my face. At first I was sure to recall nothing, as this might release the dam I had built for everything. I tried out my surroundings bit by bit. I was in a sitting position, propped up on pillows. I was also in the shade, which I was thankful for. The sunburn wasn't too bad in here. I looked to my side and saw Sawyer sitting a few feet away from me- intent on a piece of driftwood he was whittling. He noticed I had woken (or regained consciousness, it felt like) and set the wood on his lap. His usual look of mock surprise didn't pass over his face. No comments, and no nicknames were thrown at me. Instead he held my gaze for a moment. He nodded towards me and then focused back on the wood, not picking it up or carving at it with the knife anymore, just looking at it, his brows knit together in an expression I couldn't entirely figure out.

"You. .you uh, are only here for now, don't worry. It's the best place because its shady and Jack and I decided there are no sympathetic onlookers around like there would be up at the caves." He looked back up at me. I almost nodded, thankful that they hadn't dragged me off to a cave where people could stare at me and wait for me to start sobbing while filling up a water bottle or something. People were like that. Cruel in their sympathy. Not realizing it would be much kinder if they didn't stare or completely avert their gazes.

"Where's Sayid?" I manage to croak out. I realize my throat is completely parched. I must not have taken a drink in 24 hours. Sawyer must have seen me unsticking my throat because he got up and handed me a bottle of water. I drank a little, sputtered, and he took it away. I wiped my mouth and reached for more. He held the bottle for me and I satisfied my thirst, drinking deeply. My sunburn stung. He twisted the cap back on when I was finished and set it in the cooler.

He suddenly remembered my question .

"He went to go get some medication that Jack said you should take. He'll be back soon but Jack wanted to give Sayid the directions since he'll be with you most. So I stayed here with you, peaches." He says kindly.

"Medication?" I ask, uncertainly.

"You're awake!" Sayid says. I turn and find him striding towards the tent, clutching a paper bag in his left hand. I stare at it suspiciously but he sets it down as soon as he enters the Sawyer's shady tent and kneels beside me. He takes my face in his hands, and I find they are strong and cool. I relish the touch, which soothes my sunburn. Then a memory, sharp, clear and unbidden, flies to my mind. I'm standing in a dark kitchen, leaning back onto the counter, trying my best not to shout. I was angry at Boone for coming when I hadn't asked him, for trying to take me back home with him from where I was staying in California with a guy, Mike. He hadn't been treating me well, and somehow Boone had known. I was so pissed at the time… What right did he have to come bursting into my life and try to fix everything? Mike was away for the day, and it was just Boone and I in the dark, dreary little kitchen. Boone had taken his hands and placed them on my cheeks like Sayid was doing now.

"Shannon. He doesn't deserve you.. Come home." And I did.

When I again focused on the present, Sayid was staring into my eyes, disturbed by what he saw. But as the wisps of memory drifted away, I looked from a concerned Sayid to a intent Sawyer. Sayid pulled out the bag, holding up a bottle of pills.

"I'm not taking those." I announce. He looks at me, looks at the bottle, and sighs.

" We think it would be best that you do."

"We?" I ask, crossing my arms over my stomach stubbornly.

"Jack.. and I." He sighs again.

"Well I don't think you thought of-" I stat to say, but Sayid grips my arm firmly but gently, holding me down and pleading with me with his eyes for me not to object. I am shocked as he opened the bottle and holds on to my mouth, which I firmly clamp shut._ What is this!_ Why is Sayid trying to force feed me pills that I don't want to take? What are they? I know he is only trying to help, and not harm me because I trust him, but I'm enraged that he would try to force them on me.

"Shannon.. Please…" He pries at my lips with his forefinger, and I shake my head wildly. His grip becomes stronger, and he gets rougher.

Eventually I rip my arm away from his grip and tear out into the sunlight. I run past several people who turn and look back at me and my urgent sprinting. I don't know if Sayid or Sawyer is following me, but I turn and crash over the sand, barefoot, towards the farthest end of the beach I can see.

A/N : Totally random, and written in a state of sheer boredom... So tell me what you think! A one shot? Mayyyyybe... Maybe not. Convince me if I should go on with it or not.


	2. Saying Goodbye

**Grief II**

To the Reviewers: Thank you, I really appreciate it, let me know what you think of this chapter too!

Hugging my knees to my chest, I find temporary peace from my sorrow. Peace from Sayid's betrayal. And peace from my miserable sunburn. The sun is retreating down along the horizon and the air is cooling considerably. I breathe it in with a sigh and my eyes scan the horizon for anything on the water. I recall my first week or so on the island. Horizon-scanning was how I spent my days. I was hopeful then. Now I just needed to distract myself. My stomach rumbled but I clenched my teeth against it and it flipped into nausea. I swallowed and close my eyes. Looking back from where I came, I can mostly only see beach. If I squint, however, I can make out Sawyer's tent and a few colorful blankets and sheets on which the remainder of beach-dwellers reside.

Suddenly I feel loneliness creeping through me. A heavy, weighted loneliness which threatens to crush me under its weight. I look around me. Behind me is the thick green wall of jungle which seems to stare at me, taunting me -starting in an abrupt line from the beach. Ahead of me is an immeasurable expanse of ocean which bends over the horizon and disappears beside the setting sun. To either side of me is a lonely stretch of white sand. I feel like a spec of colorful sun-dress in a Great Nothingness.

Boone now is only a trigger to emotion that beats me and wears me down. I feel like I have to do something to seal it off, to complete the hurt. A thought springs into my mind. Where is he? Where is Boone's body? Surely that haven't buried it yet.I stand, tucking my short blonde hair behind my ears, and start y trek to the trail that leads to the caves.

Now I wished that I had decided to go earlier, and that there was more light in the trail that I now followed. I broke into a clumsy, irregular run, trying to beat the sunset and dreading the onset of dark. I hadn't eaten in a long time, and I found myself too weak to do much but walk quickly. I pushed branches out of my way and didn't wince when I stepped on rocks or twigs. I didn't feel any pain. So much of me seemed to be all tense and balled up in my chest and throat and head that I couldn't feel much in my limbs.

I rounded a corner and another body ran smack into me. I stumbled backward, falling from the unexpected collision, and looked up to see who had run into me. Jack stared at me , looking confused.

"Why are you so surprised?" I ask, pulling myself up and brushing myself off.

"You didn't take the meds, did you?" He asked monotonously.

"No, I didn't." I say, not apologetically.

"Why not, Shannon? You'd be sound asleep right now. It wouldn't hurt so much."

I was going to ask what wouldn't hurt so much but I knew he was talking about Boone.

"It wont do me any good to try and numb it. To run away. I'll have to come back and face it sooner or later." Tears fall down my face very suddenly and I am surprised. I wipe them with the back of my hand and Jack sighs. This irritates me, though I cant say why.

"Shannon, you should take the-" He grabs my arm gently, but I wrench out of his grip instantly. This takes him by surprise.

"What are you going to do? _Drag_ me back to Sayid so he can shove some of your sleeping pills _down my throat_? Leave me alone!" I spat dangerously at the doctor. I continued on my way at a run. I could hear him following me. I ran faster. I slowed when I reached the caves. It occurred to me that I didn't know where Boone was, though I thought I had a good idea. I found my way over to where I thought Jack stayed and I looked around, confused. A thick fog was settling over me. Jack's hand on my shoulder startled me a little.

"Shannon." Jack said.

"Where is he, Jack?" I whimper.

"Come here." Jack puts his arm around my shoulders and he steers me to a remote area near the caves where no one stayed, a reasonable place for keeping a body, I mused.

I saw it. A sheet. I could make out his shape, tall and thin. Where his head and feet and arms were. Jack went in front of me and removed the sheet slowly. He came back to where I was standing as stiffly as Boone's corpse, and gently guided me to his side. I collapsed on the ground and bent my legs under me, staring at the pale body of my step- brother.

"Holler if you need me." Jack's departing words echoed around in my head until they faded eventually, like smoke curling into the sky until it was invisible among the elements.

I reached out with a pale and shaking finger to brush his cheek. I pulled back as if I had been burned, but nothing had happened. I reached out again, this time only feeling the cold skin which was Boone. I bit my trembling lip and grasped his limp, lifeless hand with both of mine as tight as I could. Tears warmed my cold face and tickled my lips. I sat for a long time, just staring at Boone's body and hanging onto his hand as if I could bring him back by doing so. If I could have, I would have given him all my blood just to make his beat again. I would have stayed here with him until the sky caved in on me and until the island was swallowed into the sea. I was telling him this, but he couldn't hear me. His lips are blue, like his closed eyelids. I stand up and let go of Boone's hand. I cover him again with the white sheet, which is worse than the corpse alone, and head back. Jack stands when he sees me emerge and I wait for him to come to me. He grabs a flashlight and escorts me back to the beach. When we are almost to Sawyer's campfire, he stops and I look back to see what he wants. He looks at me and then away, the back again.

"Before Boone... died... He was trying to say something."

"What... what was he trying to say?" I ask desperately.

"Don't get your hopes up. He was dying.. He was almost gone. He woke up and was trying to tell me something... He said... 'Tell Shannon, tell Shannon I –'..."

"Tell me what?" I pleaded.

"Im so sorry. I've probably made it worse..." Jack apologized and rubbed his forehead.

"That's all he said?" I asked.

"And then he was gone." Jack confirmed. He nodded at Sayid who was walking to me, and let his hand linger on my shoulder before taking his leave with the flashlight. I was left in his wake, my mouth in a disappointed line, my eyes threatening to spill over for the millionth time. My arms were cold.. My dress was sleeveless.

"Shannon..." It was Sayid. I turn and face him, ready to start sobbing if he starts wielding a bottle of pills at me. Or screaming. I couldn't muster the energy for both.

"I don't want the damn sleeping pills!" I say through clenched teeth. He looks at me, troubled.

"No. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I don't even know what I was thinking..." He reaches his hand out to touch my face. I wince and jerk away slightly. He draws his hand back, hurt. My arms are folded and I swallow. Why did I flinch? I can tell I hurt him. He turns and begins to walk back to the fire. He turns back. I have no one to stay with tonight if he leaves me standing here. No fire to keep me warm or safe. Only my grief and the huge darkness for company. He knows this, and so he tried a second time.

"Shannon ...please..." He says.

He steps close to me and tucks my hair behind my ear. I don't flinch. I look at my bare, cold feet. His hand goes to my shoulder and he is rewarded with my eye contact. He steps so he is beside me, his arm going around my shivering frame. He leads me back to the campfire, where our blankets are already rolled out, and helps me sit down. He offers me some meat and water, and I accept gladly. Once I am finished he throws another log on the fire. Sparks leap into the night air and I imagine they are bits of a spirit leaving a body. Unfinished last words.

"He was telling me something." I mumble. Sayid sits beside me and asks me what I'm talking about. "Boone..." I say.

"His last words were 'Tell Shannon, tell Shannon ...'."

"I'm so sorry, Shannon." Sayid says. I smile sadly and continue to stare into the fire. It leaves my eyes stinging and hot, and irritates my sunburn. I lay back on the pillow, welcoming cool darkness. Sayid joins me, pulling the blanket over both of us.

"I think he was going to tell you he loved you, Shannon." Sayid whispers. I smile into the darkness, realizing how my heart had been aching for this to be true, but agonizing because there was no way for me to confirm it.

"I'd like to think that." I whisper back. Images of Boone's pale corpse flashed in front of my eyelids. Disturbing me, I opened them so I could look at the stars instead. I still imagined his intense gray eyes. The ones I would only be able to remember from now on. It was sinking in. Denial wasn't my problem. The fact that it wouldn't stop sinking in , was. I pushed myself closer to Sayid, who welcomed me into his arms. The moon was rising. I fell asleep.


	3. Questions

1**Grief III **

A/N: Sorry chapter three took so long. I've been visiting relatives and then just got back yesterday from a class trip to Boston (which BTW ROCKED.) I have been extremely fic-lazy and only writing an occasional strange poem because they don't take much commitment. Short chapter, enjoy.

The day Boone was buried was sunny and windy. Sayid, Jack, Sun, Hurley, Claire, Charlie, Kate, Sawyer and I were the only ones there. His grave was on a high hill's crest. Sayid stood behind me and he had his hands on my shoulders until I came forward to put flowers on Boone's grave. It was a solemn and sad funeral for everyone who was there, and a final goodbye for me. When I placed the flowers on his body, I whispered goodbye to my stepbrother , and my hair was whipped around in the wind. My eyes stung. I know I will miss him. Claire's baby coo's and gurgles happily, unawares of the sadness surrounding him and only aware of the bird he sees in the sky. Jack and Sawyer start to shovel Boone's grave over, and I turn away. Sayid's hands come to my shoulders again, and I am too weak to wish to be alone or want them gone.

By the time I am at the beach again, my eyes weren't so dry. I had started to cry again, just a little. My mind was far away as I stared off into the ocean. It was so constant. The beating of the waves. The tide comes, the tide goes. Like night and day. It could not die.. Why not learn to love constant things like the ocean or the sun? Things you could count on and things that would not die. Things that you didn't have to worry about getting their last words. The ocean blurs and tears fall down my face. It is a sensation I am growing wearily accustomed to now. Sayid sits beside me in the sand. I feel a if his death is a wound I will never completely heal from. I feel like it will fade eventually, but that it will always be a gouge in my heart that tears open in spots and starts bleeding again until the day I die. Sayid brushes my tears away. I am grateful for him.. I cant imagine what this would be like without him. And so I do not try. I live my life now from hour to hour. Anything else seems to overwhelming.

We've been on the island far too long. I fear we have been here for almost a half a year now. We are nearing the middle of the fifth month. If it weren't for Sayid I think I would go mad. I keep a journal now, in a regular lined notebook, and I keep it concealed in my rolled-up blankets during the day. I usually only write once in the day, sometimes twice, often in the firelight. Sayid is the only one who knows that I keep it. He never asks about it, though. I begin to think more and more about the French Woman that Sayid encountered on our first weeks on the island. How has she survived all by herself? How has she made a life here without a soul to keep her company? Of course, from what sayid has told me, I don't think she quite has all her marbles either. I wonder what kind of person she was before the island. She was described to me as a weather-beaten woman with long, unkempt hair and torn, old clothing. Sounded accurate for sixteen years on this horrible, eerie hunk of land.

As I sit and watch the daily routine of life we have created here, I think more about Danielle. I imagine her before the island, a tall, thin young woman with a light in her eyes and dark, shining hair swept back in a french twist. I imagine her sharp mind for science and her deep love for her husband and her son, Alex. Allowing my mind to drift even further, I create a husband and son for her in my mind's eye. Robert, a tall, dark-haired man with a quick mind and dark eyes.

I imagine her son, also dark haired and dark-eyed, with a sense of adventure only a child can muster and a laugh like his father's. I arrange them into a family portrait, the Robert in back with his hands on his wife's shoulders, and Alex standing beside his mother grinning widely.

I am pulled out of my thoughts when Sawyer comes and sit beside me. Sayid is out hunting, as there are new hunters since Boone died and Locke seemed to disappear with him.

"Hey." I say, trying to sound friendly. I had been neglecting my social life with all the islanders except Sayid for a week or two now.

"Hey.." He says, his voice heavy with accent.

I close my notebook and turn to face him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"You ever wondered..."

"Wondered _what?" _I ask, puzzled by Sawyer's little visit with me.

"Wondered how your brother died." He finished quietly. "Have you ever wondered how Boone died." It didn't come out like a question.

I think for a minute after the initial surprise at his personal question.

"I... I guess so Sawyer... " I begin to say, becoming uncomfortable under the Southerner's intense gaze. He leaned in further, expecting me to go on.

"Jack said he fell off a cliff." I finished lamely, swallowing a lump in my throat.

"Look, I didn't come here to upset you, but I think there might be more to this than everyone has agreed to believe."

"Why are you saying this?" I ask, rubbing my hands over my face, trying not to dredge up emotions I had managed to get under control.

"Shannon... I just think... I think you should come with me." Sawyer says with more resolution than I have ever heard from him.

"Alright." I agree, and shakily I rise to my feet.

I follow him on shaky legs, my breath coming faster as I grow more tired and my legs protesting to every step. When I call out to sawyer to ask him where he is taking me my voice is almost unrecognizable to me.

I swallow.

"We're here." He says, pushing aside the leaves of a tree to show me whatever lies behind them.

I step through the branches and gasp. I see a yellow plane broken and smashed on the ground by a high cliff. At first I only stare, my eyes squinted to see anything besides the glare off the bright aluminum. Sawyer stands behind me, but I am only vaguely aware of him.

"What is this?" I ask.

" I don't know. But I think it has something to do with your brother." Sawyer answers me cooly.

A noise from inside the plane jumps me and Sawyer puts an arm out I front of me.

The noise stops, and is not followed by another. Yet it was loud and clear enough to make both of us entirely sure there is either an animal or someone in the plane.

Sawyer reaches down and picks up a hefty tree branch while motioning with his other hand for me to stay put, and approaches the twisted door of the small plane. Sawyer lowers his club when he sees something inside the plane, and a sense of danger washes slowly away from the air. I walk forward just as John Locke emerges from the plane, carrying the broken pieces of a radio. He looks surprised to see us there, and I find myself becoming angry that he has not yet washed my beloved Boone's blood off of his white shirt. Or burned the shirt. I cant see how he can wear that dark-red reminder over his shoulders. But he wears it like he does not notice it. Just as he acts like he does not notice Boone's death. I find myself enraged.

He half-smiles at me and steps into the jungle. I look over to see Sawyer's perplexed expression looking after Locke, and I curl my fingers into my fists.


End file.
